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edenfallingWhile I was hashing out "Loving Bonds" in my head for Yuletide, I wrote a 200 word snippet by way of testing an explanation for the White Rider's presence in Tywyn. This is an expansion of that snippet. Nothing much happens: a woman goes for a ride, meets a man, and has a stilted conversation. It's funny how little it takes to push history onto a new track. (1,200 words)
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A Simple Plan
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The door to the High Magic's sanctuary lay under Craig yr Aderyn. The Light would arrange for one of Pendragon's lineage to arrive there in preparation for the final Rising, to claim the harp of gold. The Grey King and his foxes could not move easily among humans. Therefore, the Dark must send a watchman to identify and, if possible, subvert the Pendragon.
The White Rider volunteered.
"You? Pin yourself to a single time and place for decades? Trap yourself in human shape?" The Black Rider shook his head. "Send one of the Unchained. They're born human; they learn the rules of the species from the inside."
The White Rider smiled, cold and sharp. "If they know things we do not, does that make us stronger, or does it make us vulnerable fools? You can sweep up and down the world as you will. I will rest for a time."
No one could hold her if she did not wish to be held -- no one and nothing, save the High Magic that bound the whole of the universe -- and so the Black Rider bowed his head and stepped aside, taking his place once more in the right-hand throne in the drifting halls of the Underdark. "So be it. Our success rests on your head."
"When has it ever not?" the White Rider asked, and summoned her mount. She swung onto his back and spurred him through shadows into starlight, riding along the road from Cader Idris down to Tywyn.
The summer night rested warm and thick around her, and she found herself whistling tunelessly as she traveled, enjoying the feel of wind in her unbound hair. Within a quarter hour, two of the Grey King's milgwn slunk through the bracken to pace her along the road, slipping through the shadows at the foot of the hedgerow. "Greetings, cousins," she said to the foxes. "Tell your master I am here to join his vigil, not to overthrow him from his stronghold."
One fox swerved back up the mountain. The other continued to pace her, watching. "It will be good to have a second front in this battle," it said. "Will you require aid this night?"
"No," the White Rider said aloud.
She would spend the night getting the lay of this land, and then pretend to arrive by some human transportation. It was easy enough to acquire money -- what could not be conjured or faked could easily be brought through time from ancient spoils and hoards -- and she would set herself up as a quiet recluse. Perhaps an artist, or a writer: humans expected those touched with the Wild Magic's spark to be odd.
On the road behind her, an engine coughed and tires rattled on the gravel.
The White Rider swung down off her mount and sent him away into potentiality until she called him back. Her cloak melted into a blue dress and a white summer jacket. Her hair wove into a braid. In a bare handful of seconds, she dwindled into a human woman, walking between the road and the hedge. The milgwn vanished into the bracken.
A rattletrap car crested the hill behind her, its headlights cutting swathes through the velvety night. The White Rider shielded her eyes and cursed the sudden glare. But the human would drive on. She would return to the welcoming darkness and resume her conversation with the fox.
The car stopped beside her.
A man leaned out through the window, his face narrow and brown from exposure to sun and wind. "Hello," he said. "It is a bit late to be out walking the hills. Would you be wanting a ride into Tywyn?"
The White Rider hesitated. She did not want a ride, but she wanted even less to raise suspicions among the people she would be watching. True, she could make this man forget, but that would only prove the Black Rider's point that she was unsuited for this task. And she refused to let him gloat over any perceived failing on her part.
"Yes, thank you," she said, copying his accent, and walked around the car to open the side door. "Leave us," she said silently to the fox. "Tell your master I will speak with him in my own time."
"It is a good night for walking," said the man as he switched the car back into gear. "Yesterday was not so pleasant -- rain all evening and on past midnight."
"Ah," said the White Rider. Behind her eyes, she watched the milgwn race through the night after its partner, bearing her message to the Grey King. Then she opened her eyes and wondered what on earth a human woman was meant to do when sitting in a car with a stranger at night.
Evidently the man was also unsure how to deal with the situation, and so they drove in silence for a minute. Then, "What brings you to Tywyn, if it is not rude to ask?" said the man.
"My feet," said the White Rider. "But that is not much of an answer, is it? In truth, I was tired of arguing with my... brother, and so I decided to go someplace he would never think to follow. So I have been catching rides here and there, and walking in between, but I am growing tired of that and I would like to stay put for a while." She shrugged.
"Tywyn is very restful," said the man, "and the sea air is clean and good for the body." He glanced sideways at the White Rider, as if searching for some reaction, and then returned his attention to the road.
"That is good to know," said the White Rider after a moment. She considered her options. It would be safer to establish a reputation for being antisocial -- that would minimize her chances of giving herself away in human interactions -- but seclusion would make it difficult to follow local gossip and track the Pendragon's arrival. Perhaps she should maintain contact with this man.
"If I decide to stay," she said, "would you recommend any place to rent a room?"
"I believe I could do that," the man said. "For tonight, though, why not stay at Clwyd farm, where I am going?" At the White Rider's curious look, he flushed slightly. "I did not mean anything improper. There is an empty house, since David Evans has not yet built up his flocks enough to need a third man about the farm. It is a bit dusty, of course, but the water and electricity work."
There was no reason not to accept the offer, and several reasons in favor. The White Rider nodded. "Thank you. I will stay the night, though I believe I would prefer to live in town, since I have no car of my own."
"As you say," said the man. "I am John Rowlands," he added after a moment.
"Blodwen," said the White Rider. "Blodwen Price. I am pleased to meet you, John." She smiled at him, warm and gentle, and wondered at the ease with which the expression rose to her face.
"Likewise," said John Rowlands, and returned Blodwen's smile.
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End of Story
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I am halfway through getting my Yuletide fics onto my master list posts. I will probably finish that tomorrow.
---------------------------------------------
A Simple Plan
---------------------------------------------
The door to the High Magic's sanctuary lay under Craig yr Aderyn. The Light would arrange for one of Pendragon's lineage to arrive there in preparation for the final Rising, to claim the harp of gold. The Grey King and his foxes could not move easily among humans. Therefore, the Dark must send a watchman to identify and, if possible, subvert the Pendragon.
The White Rider volunteered.
"You? Pin yourself to a single time and place for decades? Trap yourself in human shape?" The Black Rider shook his head. "Send one of the Unchained. They're born human; they learn the rules of the species from the inside."
The White Rider smiled, cold and sharp. "If they know things we do not, does that make us stronger, or does it make us vulnerable fools? You can sweep up and down the world as you will. I will rest for a time."
No one could hold her if she did not wish to be held -- no one and nothing, save the High Magic that bound the whole of the universe -- and so the Black Rider bowed his head and stepped aside, taking his place once more in the right-hand throne in the drifting halls of the Underdark. "So be it. Our success rests on your head."
"When has it ever not?" the White Rider asked, and summoned her mount. She swung onto his back and spurred him through shadows into starlight, riding along the road from Cader Idris down to Tywyn.
The summer night rested warm and thick around her, and she found herself whistling tunelessly as she traveled, enjoying the feel of wind in her unbound hair. Within a quarter hour, two of the Grey King's milgwn slunk through the bracken to pace her along the road, slipping through the shadows at the foot of the hedgerow. "Greetings, cousins," she said to the foxes. "Tell your master I am here to join his vigil, not to overthrow him from his stronghold."
One fox swerved back up the mountain. The other continued to pace her, watching. "It will be good to have a second front in this battle," it said. "Will you require aid this night?"
"No," the White Rider said aloud.
She would spend the night getting the lay of this land, and then pretend to arrive by some human transportation. It was easy enough to acquire money -- what could not be conjured or faked could easily be brought through time from ancient spoils and hoards -- and she would set herself up as a quiet recluse. Perhaps an artist, or a writer: humans expected those touched with the Wild Magic's spark to be odd.
On the road behind her, an engine coughed and tires rattled on the gravel.
The White Rider swung down off her mount and sent him away into potentiality until she called him back. Her cloak melted into a blue dress and a white summer jacket. Her hair wove into a braid. In a bare handful of seconds, she dwindled into a human woman, walking between the road and the hedge. The milgwn vanished into the bracken.
A rattletrap car crested the hill behind her, its headlights cutting swathes through the velvety night. The White Rider shielded her eyes and cursed the sudden glare. But the human would drive on. She would return to the welcoming darkness and resume her conversation with the fox.
The car stopped beside her.
A man leaned out through the window, his face narrow and brown from exposure to sun and wind. "Hello," he said. "It is a bit late to be out walking the hills. Would you be wanting a ride into Tywyn?"
The White Rider hesitated. She did not want a ride, but she wanted even less to raise suspicions among the people she would be watching. True, she could make this man forget, but that would only prove the Black Rider's point that she was unsuited for this task. And she refused to let him gloat over any perceived failing on her part.
"Yes, thank you," she said, copying his accent, and walked around the car to open the side door. "Leave us," she said silently to the fox. "Tell your master I will speak with him in my own time."
"It is a good night for walking," said the man as he switched the car back into gear. "Yesterday was not so pleasant -- rain all evening and on past midnight."
"Ah," said the White Rider. Behind her eyes, she watched the milgwn race through the night after its partner, bearing her message to the Grey King. Then she opened her eyes and wondered what on earth a human woman was meant to do when sitting in a car with a stranger at night.
Evidently the man was also unsure how to deal with the situation, and so they drove in silence for a minute. Then, "What brings you to Tywyn, if it is not rude to ask?" said the man.
"My feet," said the White Rider. "But that is not much of an answer, is it? In truth, I was tired of arguing with my... brother, and so I decided to go someplace he would never think to follow. So I have been catching rides here and there, and walking in between, but I am growing tired of that and I would like to stay put for a while." She shrugged.
"Tywyn is very restful," said the man, "and the sea air is clean and good for the body." He glanced sideways at the White Rider, as if searching for some reaction, and then returned his attention to the road.
"That is good to know," said the White Rider after a moment. She considered her options. It would be safer to establish a reputation for being antisocial -- that would minimize her chances of giving herself away in human interactions -- but seclusion would make it difficult to follow local gossip and track the Pendragon's arrival. Perhaps she should maintain contact with this man.
"If I decide to stay," she said, "would you recommend any place to rent a room?"
"I believe I could do that," the man said. "For tonight, though, why not stay at Clwyd farm, where I am going?" At the White Rider's curious look, he flushed slightly. "I did not mean anything improper. There is an empty house, since David Evans has not yet built up his flocks enough to need a third man about the farm. It is a bit dusty, of course, but the water and electricity work."
There was no reason not to accept the offer, and several reasons in favor. The White Rider nodded. "Thank you. I will stay the night, though I believe I would prefer to live in town, since I have no car of my own."
"As you say," said the man. "I am John Rowlands," he added after a moment.
"Blodwen," said the White Rider. "Blodwen Price. I am pleased to meet you, John." She smiled at him, warm and gentle, and wondered at the ease with which the expression rose to her face.
"Likewise," said John Rowlands, and returned Blodwen's smile.
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End of Story
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I am halfway through getting my Yuletide fics onto my master list posts. I will probably finish that tomorrow.
